


Not The Only One

by marcasite



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Episode: s08e12 Death in Heaven, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcasite/pseuds/marcasite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hesitates, unsure if she should even bother with him but there’s something in the downturn twist of his mouth; something in the cast of his eyes that decides for her. She leans in and carefully presses her hand to his arm. She wants to feel the burn of his gaze but refuses to pull her hand away even as he stares everywhere but at her. He doesn’t shift away and she accepts that as a good sign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The Only One

**Author's Note:**

> I was in both an angsty and smutty mood so I wrote two stories today. This semi-angsty shorter fic, post-DIH with NO SMUT but another one shortly to follow this week. Honestly, not even sure what this is since I should be in a giddy mood over the Christmas spoilers and not sadface! Thank you again Kara for reading over. Please feel free to leave fic prompts any time over at tumblr or here. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read. :)

She’s been here before.

She remembers the flowers and music. Always flowers and music; certain things don’t change. She also remembers how overwhelming the flowers were; the scent of the flowers so cloying, breathing becomes another hazard.

She also remembers the words.

So many words; as if saying the words could change why they were there; change the way everyone feels. Words that float by quietly, waiting to offer the chance of solace and comfort, but more often than not just leave behind disquiet and despair.

So many words; none of them mean anything.

She feels her father shifting next to her and is suddenly glad that the sun is shining so brightly. She can hide behind her sunglasses; ignoring the pity in his eyes as he looks at her. She wonders if he can sense the shift, if he is starting to realize that things are changing. She stares ahead, listening to the meaningless nothing that keeps invading her space. 

Oh, she’s been here before.

Glancing around the small group, a small part of her registers the Doctor’s absence. The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile, she misses him. Every single day since he’s been gone. The one time in her life she was prepared to tell the Doctor the truth about Danny, the boy, everything is the one time she laid out her lies to spare him. Oh, the irony. 

She is a lying liar who lies. And look what it got her in the end.

It seems like hours, when in fact it is only minutes, before she makes her way towards the car. The memorial the Pinks’ have put together is more than she thought she could bear. She sighs quietly, realizing that it this is over, she can finally start to move on.

Her father has walked quietly behind her, there’s not enough to say and too much to time to move. His disappointment is palatable and she feels the waves of insecurity flowing off of him. She knows he will not stay longer, Linda and his life are waiting for him. This was more than she would have wished for anyway. Her Gran wanted to come again and she told her no, that she didn’t have to make another trip. 

“You all right?”

She can’t help but wonder if it’s more of a statement than an actual question.

“I’m fine. We can talk later, if you like. Thank you, Dad.” She wishes she could push the inevitable off.

He looks away, “Take care, love. I’ll call you later. Your Gran is worried about you.”

She repeats herself, “I’m fine. It’s ok.”

He hugs her a final time and she knows that they could never understand that her heart turned to glass and shattered in a coffee shop just a few short weeks ago. 

 

-

 

Her life is mundane, the very thing she fought so hard against. She wakes up, convinces herself to get dressed, stays way too long after the last bell has rung, and makes her way back home again. Meals are an afterthought, sleep is her only sanctuary. When she sleeps, she dreams of the Doctor, of the life she had with him, the nights whisper to her to come and play. She finds herself at a loss, twisting this way and that, not sure what do next, not sure who to blame. She sits in the park for hours, watching the leaves tumble about, staring but not seeing. She knows the weather is changing, the days are shorter and so much cooler. It’s been so long since she lived so linearly that time has to start meaning something to her soon. 

She wonders if he thinks about her, wonders how her life is. She wonders if the conversation they had on the Orient Express meant something, that maybe he would come around for dinner and not find it boring. She wonders if any of it meant anything at all.

Or was everything a lie, always a lie. 

 

-

 

Staring at the clock isn’t going to make the time move any quicker, she acknowledges to herself. Sighing, she wonders when she can safely make her escape. For the past thirty minutes, she’s edged closer to the door proud of herself for holding on to her coat. These school events are required but she doesn’t stay a moment longer than she has to. Social niceties are no longer her forte.

Only minutes now, she thinks. 

Turning to look through the glass partition in the door, she watches in horror as the Doctor stands in the schoolyard, staring up at the building. Without thinking, she moves to the door and steps outside. In a way, he’s given her the excuse she’s needed and she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Or a gift Doctor.

Pulling her coat on as she makes her way down the driveway of the school, she stops in front of the Doctor debating how she’s going to avoid a scene.

“Why are you here?” She tries to keep her voice casual, conversational. She’s twisted and knotted and control is something she clings to.

“Thought there might be an opening, heard the last caretaker was rubbish.”

She feels a surge of disappointment but pushes down on it, refusing to let him get to her; let his words mean anything. “How did you know I was here?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes never leaving the front door.

She hesitates, unsure if she should even bother with him but there’s something in the downturn twist of his mouth; something in the cast of his eyes that decides for her. She leans in and carefully presses her hand to his arm. She wants to feel the burn of his gaze but refuses to pull her hand away even as he stares everywhere but at her. He doesn’t shift away and she accepts that as a good sign.

She had thought about this moment for months and now that he is here, she doesn’t know what to do. Words pile up in her mouth but it refuses to open, allowing everything to languish into bitterness. She pauses again, waiting for him to say or do something but he just watches the door. Eyes everywhere but on her. 

“Have a drink with me?” She wishes she could take the words back even as she hears herself saying them. Her mouth moves into a smile and she pulls her hand away.

He finally tears his eyes away from the door and she feels the impact of his gaze as it lands on her face. He studies her for a moment, eyes sweeping over her face. She knows he’ll see the lie that it hides.

“Time for some truths, Clara.” He keeps his voice low.

She chooses to misunderstand him, “No, time for drinks.”

His eyes crinkle in the corners, he’ll play. “No, but we’re not talking about your offer, are we?”

She sighs, the sound weary. “It’s been awhile, Doctor. There’s no mystery here.”

“There’s always a mystery and there’s always an answer.”

She knows that he’s not talking about her anymore, “Doctor, we should let it go. I think the answer you’re looking for is not what you will want to find. Or have you been lying to me as well?” Her breath catches at the look on his face, she knows. She knows. Stupid, stupid, Clara. They were lying liars who lied. She wasn’t the only one. 

“I think I will pass on that drink offer, as tempting as you make it.” He turns to gaze at the door again.

She feels herself flush with embarrassment and clenches her fist. She has no one but herself to blame. She turns away, pulling her coat tighter against her, only stopping when he calls out to her.

“Sometimes I just have to have an answer.”

She turns back to face him; her eyes searching his, “Sometimes? Doctor, you won’t let anything go even if it has nothing to do with you. You don’t care who you hurt along the way as long as you get the answer you’re searching for. Trust me, it’s a flaw.”

He smirks, eyes never leaving hers. He doesn’t answer her and she doesn’t expect one.

“Clara.”

She’s already moved away, walking towards her flat. She doesn’t turn around.

“Clara, I’ll go.”

She stops and waits for him to catch up. “Fine, I’ll buy since I asked.”

“Wasn’t going to offer.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles briefly. It’s quiet as they make their way towards her flat, she doesn’t ask him where the Tardis is nor does he offer.

The silence is heavy, so much lost between them, so many unspoken truths. She can feel the weight of her heart as it starts to gather itself back together and though it’s still fragile, she can feel the shards bending to the beat of his quiet rhythm. She’s loved him since the beginning, will always love him, and takes solace in the fact that he came back. This is a truth she has already accepted.

But for them, the truths can wait, the silence between them already screams it.


End file.
